


The Grounder Princess

by Light_sources2



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Light_sources2/pseuds/Light_sources2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>❖ AU in which Clarke is a grounder who’s village perished as a result of the flares sent up by the 100. In an act of retaliation, her people declare war on the group and kidnap their rebel leader.</p><p>Prompt found on tumblr. Sorry if I get any bits wrong this is my first attempt and I'm from the UK and we're only on episode 8. Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burning Up

**Author's Note:**

> I'm struggling slightly with the new  
> dynamics but I'll try my hardest to make it true to the show and keep the characters as they are.

Clarke watched silently from the tree line as the smoke curled it's way upwards darkening the sky and clogging her throat. She knew she should be crying like the other mourners, sobbing on their knees by the dying ashes of the fire, her black coat pulled over her head in the traditional sign if respect and her desperate cries echoing through the woods. 

But even if she wanted the comfort of others she couldn't bring herself to let any more tears fall. They had left her that first night when she held her fathers body as he left this world. His face was mutilated beyond recognition by the burns but she could still see the moment his spirit left his body- and her- behind. 

She had held his now empty body close, the tears running down her face as she screamed every curse she knew at the monsters who had done this to him. She had sobbed, each breath a struggle ripping at her lungs until her mother had come and joined her in her grief. She stopped her shouting then and had just enjoyed the feeling of her mother holding her tight morning their loss together. Eventually the tears stopped falling and she got up and walked away from them, leaving her mother to day goodbye. She walked on into the night and into the early hours of the morning when she came to rest at the top of the cliff overlooking the forest. The image of his lifeless body was branded into her mind but there she prayed. For her fathers spirit, for his people and, most of all, for her strength. She vowed never to show such weakness and to cry again and had marched back to their destroyed camp with determination and a new found purpose.

By the time she arrived back her tribe were already rebuilding the camp. Working in solemn silence to try and rebuild their lives from the rubble and the ashes. The rockets had torn through their camp leaving only destruction in their wake. It could have been much worse, they had been quite lucky in fact. A scout had spotted the bright lights leaving the camp of the sky people and heading to them. They had evacuated the camp of all who were too important, unable or too young to fight. This included Clarke and her mother Abby who were the tribe healers. But not Clarke's father, the tribe leader. The warriors had stood valiantly as the flares- as she now knew them to be- had raced each other to reach the camp. They didn't know what they faced and had been unprepared for the onslaught. Clarke's shout of warning too little too late to save the people who were just trying to save the rest. 

After a few rickety shelters had been constructed, food collected and firewood stored the group had started the arduous task of burning the dead. Each mangled body, only recognisable by their individual necklaces, had been wrapped in material and set on a pyre to burn and be sent upwards. This had carried on most of the week, a constant smell of smoke and burning flesh hung over the camp and Clarke was avoiding it. She would hike away early in the morning and find a tree to sit in with her sketchbook to draw the world around her. It was oddly calming and a welcome distraction from the horror that was her life. Only on the last day of mourning had she dragged herself to the clearing currently serving as a memorial ground to watch her father go up in flames. He was the last to go as he was their leader and was granted that small honour. The whole tribe- or what was left of it- had turned out to watch their beloved 'king' leave.

To Clarke it was all a bit perverse. Her father had left his body and ascended in her mind already and the idea of surrounding his corpse with the element that had ultimately caused his demise was a wicked irony that felt wrong to her. 

It was becoming too much watching his last connection to the Earth disappear so she turned around and walked back into the trees. None if the mourners noticed apart from her mother who gave her a tearful smile, well more of a grimace, as she left. Now her father was gone Clarke knew she would be in charge. Despite only being seventeen she was mature and respected among their people. Her mother could take the position but no one doubted her reluctance to leave her job as healer and Clarke was an only child- a rarity among them. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do know the mourning was over. Go on with their lives as normal? Declare war? Seek revenge in another way? She was tired, stressed and could feel a headache coming on so she jumped up and grasped the nearest branch using the momentum to swing herself up. She nimbly climbed the tree until she sat on one of the topmost branches surveying the sea of green stretching as far as the eye could see. She leant back against the trunk and quietly watched the world go by. 

After a few hours of silent contemplation Clarke decided that now would be a good time to see what needed to be done. She jumped down from branch to branch until landing on the soft forest floor. The camp was still quiet when Clarke entered but there was an air of calmness as well that could only come from the closure the mourning brought everyone. A small boy no older than twelve, Declan she remembered, ran over from where he was helping the others construct a new wall.  
"Hello Clarke," Declan said nervously suddenly very interested in his fingernails.  
"Hey Declan. What's up?" Clarke asked forcing a cheerfulness into her voice that sounded fake even to her own ears.  
However Declan took it as a good sign and continued.  
"There's a meeting in the main hall about strategy. Abby said to tell you when you came back."  
Clarke nodded her thanks and watched as he scurried back to work. No rest for the wicked Clarke thought and trudged to the biggest structure she could see guessing this was the new main hall. Not much of a hall but impressive none the less considering the resources they had. 

Raised voices could be heard from outside and people scurried past afraid to accidentally eavesdrop but Clarke marched through the opening and stood inside letting her eyes adjust.

Her mum, Abby and the tribe's wise woman, Agnatha were glaring at each other from each side if the room. Abby was glaring daggers at Agnatha, arms crossed and foot tapping in annoyance while the other woman had her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. 

Clarke sighed. "What now?"

"Retaliation that's what," Agnatha snapped not taking her eyes off Abby, "or lack there of." 

"Clarke, we slightly differ in our opinions is all," Abby interjected. Clarke and Agnatha snorted at that.

Clarke sighed inwardly, "what's the problem then?"

They both started speaking together but Agnatha spoke louder and more forcefully than Abby silencing her, "it's the retaliation strategy. We need to show these people we are not to be messed with. Your weak hearted mother thinks that we shouldn't do anything but that will only encourage them to try to assert dominance. We must declare war at once-"

"We cannot declare war when we have no warriors!" Abby growled angrily. 

"We have plenty of people willing to fight!" Agnatha retorted.

"Stop!" Clarke shouted before they could resume their previous argument, "we need to think of this logically. Agnatha you're right, we need to show them their actions have consequences," Agnatha smiled smugly at Abby who let out a squeak of protest. Clarke put up a hand to silence them both, "however Mom you're right we don't have the resources, warriors or moral for an all out war." 

Agnatha began to scowl at being undermined and Abby tugged her braid nervously though obviously relieved Clarke listened to her. 

"This needs to be done carefully, each move calculated and precise. We are in a chess match and I am determined to win."

"And how exactly are you going to accomplish that?" Agnatha drawled, the scowl still on her face. 

"We must create discord in their camp. Put them out of their comfort zone," Abby interjected.

"Exactly," Clarke agreed the corners of her mouth slowly curling upwards, "and I have the perfect plan."


	2. It's just a bird

Things were not going well for Bellamy Blake. 

He knew it was his fault- though he would never admit that to O- but he was still pissed off at the universe, or whoever it was ruining his life. 

First it had been Raven and that damn radio. It had been a dick move on his part to throw it away but he honestly hadn't known about the culling. If Finn hadn't confronted him about it he wasn't sure he would have told them were he threw it.

That's what worried him.

Then Octavia had gone and gotten herself kidnapped. Yes, it was her fault. Roma had been stabbed and he couldn't help but feel guilty for her death. And then the relief and happiness he had felt when he found O in that cave had been ruined before he truly had a chance to enjoy it. And yes, getting stabbed was also Collins fault. 

Finn had been incredibly lucky. Dr Jackson had talked Raven through the operation over the radio, the steady hands she'd developed after years of handling delicate electric parts had saved his life. Monty's moonshine- although completely disgusting- had stopped infection. He was still recovering and the stitches despite saving his life, were ragged and uncomfortable.

And then, on top of all that, the grounder had escaped. Bellamy knew it had to be Octavia. Someone had cut his binds and Collins had seen him leaving camp in stolen clothes. Plus he couldn't fail to notice Octavia's lack of an after high headache from which everyone else suffered. 

In a weird way Bellamy was glad he'd escaped. It lifted a huge weight off his shoulders and he no longer had to worry about what to do with him or having to organise a constant guard to watch the captive.

What he was NOT glad about was O's weird connection to the the grounder. Whatever she thought it was it would only end with her hurt- physically or mentally. 

Sighing Bellamy untangled himself from the sleeping brunette beside him. She moaned reaching for him but he was already up and getting dressed. 

"You're going to have to leave," Bellamy grumbled throwing clothes at her that had scattered themselves around the room. Well, he might have helped. 

She sat up quickly with a disappointed look on her face, "Bellamy can't we just stay here a bit longer?" She whined patting the empty space next to her.

"Nuh uh. Things to do. Places to be. You gotta go." He gestured to the tent entrance to show his impatience.

She whined in annoyance, quickly dressing and stalking out of his tent, her annoyance at being dismissed written all over her face.

Bellamy sighed in relief when she disappeared through the opening. Sure he liked girls. He liked them quite a lot actually. But after they slept with him they were always so needy. Can't we just cuddle? Stay with me a bit longer? It's so comfortable when we just lie together. 

Urgh.

The bit after was always so awkward. Never knowing what to say or not say. Just sitting there knowing that in a few minutes they'll just forget it all. Might as well end it a bit quicker. 

Why did they never agree?

He trudged outside already regretting getting up. There was a chill in the air and the ground felt hard...frozen? Winter was coming and he had no fucking clue what to do. 

Great, another problem. 

He ran over to the gate were Miller was talking to the patrol from last night.

"Any news Miller?" Bellamy asks rubbing the final dregs of sleep from his eyes.

Miller looked uncomfortable and glanced at the others, "they're reporting some strange sighting. Maybe you know what it could be." 

"Fire away." 

A scrawny boy no older than 16 stepped forward, "well there was a lot more noise than normal. Snapping twigs and shit but we thought it was animals or something."

Another girl interrupted. Bellamy was fairly sure he'd slept with her. Yup there was the usual glare, "there were a number of shapes moving around but never closer than 100 metres. They were in the trees and everything but they were quite big so we really don't know what they were." 

They all had the same expression. Scared and hoping for reassurance. The first boy who had spoken voiced out the elephant in the room- well, metaphorical room, metaphorical elephant- "it's not grounders is it?"

Bellamy groaned. His day was just getting better.

They had been expecting an attack from the grounders ever since the first escaped. Looks like it was finally happening. 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself he addressed the group, "it could be but I don't know for sure. You guys go rest and I'll gather another patrol to check for tracks," he was proud when his voice came out confident and clear. They seemed satisfied with his answer so set off in different directions to get some sleep. 

However, Miller stood by his side tense and alert.

"Miller you too, get some sleep," Bellamy told him turning away.

"But what if it is grounders? You'll need my help Bellamy," Miller readjusted his beanie and crossed his arms defiantly.

"Well you won't be much help if you're too tired to walk straight. Now GO." 

Miller huffed once more before giving in and shuffling back to his tent. God he looked awful. He supposed everyone did by now. 

Gathering a patrol of vaguely awake people Bellamy set off into the woods. The guard at the gate nodded to him as he left- even he seemed a bit out of it.

It was a quiet morning, the chill still hanging in the air but weak rays of sun leaking through the trees to warm his hands and face.

"Alright listen up!" Bellamy shouted to the grumbling group, "we'll split in two, stay within shouting distance and if you spot anything I'll come check it out." 

They nodded their heads and frantically tried to get into the group not heading out with Bellamy. He sighed, was he really that bad? 

Ok, don't answer that.

In the end, after a lot of pushing and shoving, Bellamy was left with two girls who kept giggling whenever he spoke- yes it's annoying- a small silent boy who looked ready to attack anyone who looked at him funny and...Jasper, who looked oddly awake for such an early start.

"Don't worry bud, I'd pick you first!" Jasper said giving him a goofy grin and slinging his arm around his shoulders. 

"Gee thanks," Bellamy drawled sarcastically trying to give him the "get the fuck off now" look but Jasper was blissfully unaware- or pretending to be- and started whistling loudly and completely out of tune. 

The two groups separated, Bellamy's heading south the other north. It was only a few minutes before they heard a shout from through the trees.

He began jogging towards the sound, hearing Jasper's heavy footsteps behind him. The others in the group had probably buggered off somewhere else but he couldn't care less. 

The other group were standing together muttering under their breath. As Bellamy and Jasper approached they stepped back, quite a few of the lazy shits just turned around and walked back to camp at the sight of him.

Bellamy knelt down next to the muddy patch they had been clustered around. A large footprint was there, right slap bang in the middle. And when Bellamy said large he meant fucking huge.

"That is one big ass footprint," he commented drily. 

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big ass feet," Jasper said waggling his eyebrows.

Bellamy stood up and looked down on Jasper trying to convey through his glare that it was a bad time to be joking around. 

"Th-they say be saying they got some big ass shoes," Jasper stuttered cowering slightly.

Bellamy sighed and moved on trying to find a trail that led away from the one footprint. There nothing else there.

Which was odd to say the least.

"Does this seem kind if deliberate to you?" Bellamy asked Jasper.

"I see what you mean. But how would it benefit them to let us know they're here?" Jasper said suddenly getting serious. 

Bellamy looked around noticing for the first time it was just the two of them left. The others had obviously got bored and migrated back to camp. 

"That's whats puzzling me. It just seems so purposefully placed, the grounders aren't that careless."

A twig snapped to their left and they whirled around. A shape was moving through the trees very quickly away from camp.

Bellamy set off at a sprint with Jasper hard on his heels. They moved quietly despite their speed and had soon caught up.

Bellamy dived forward, locking his arms around the persons knees bringing them crashing down. The perpetrator gave off a loud squeal as the ground came up to meet them.

Wait, they squealed?

Grounders don't squeal.

Well last time Bellamy checked anyway.

He quickly crawled backwards off the struggling figure and stood up. 

"O??" Bellamy exclaimed his face the picture of surprise, "what the hell are you doing out here?"

Octavia was still lying in the dirt her face equally as surprised as Bellamy's but she recovered quickly and flashed them a mischievous grin.

"Alright lads?" She asked cheerfully, taking Jasper's offered hand and getting back up, "and a sorry would be nice." She scowled at Bellamy a haughty look now on her face.

Damn, her emotions changed faster than he could blink.

"Are you going to sit there like a complete ass or explain why you're going around tackling innocent girls?"

Bellamy scowled back matching her annoyance, eye for an eye.

Jasper glanced between them looking nervous once more, "okay, I'm gonna go now," he mumbled already walking backwards and tripping over roots, "bye Octavia." He gave a quick salute than turned and jogged away.

Octavia watched him go, a small smiling playing about her mouth.

"I'm going to ask again Octavia, why were you in the forest?" Bellamy demanded tapping his foot.

"Can't a girl take a walk in the woods now and again?" Octavia sighed in fake annoyance.

"Bullshit O. What were you doing?"

She really was stubborn.

"They were talking about grounders back at camp so I came to find you and see for myself," she said innocently.

"You don't care about that stuff," Bellamy retorted, "try again." 

Octavia pouted and glared at him, "That's not a lie! Now would you just leave me alone?" She shouted storming past him back to camp.

Sisters sucked.

And he had no one else to agree with him so it just made it worse.

However, he knew when Octavia was lying and that one had been a whopper. She was up to something that was for certain.

Bellamy trudged back to camp noting the location of the print, preparing himself for another hellish day. 

______________________

 

He kept an eye on Octavia for the rest of the day, but apart from confirming his suspicions that she was a lazy ass who did nothing- everyone knew that- she was relatively quiet. 

Bellamy had all but given up hope when he spotted her sneaking off after dinner just as it got dark. Monty had a new batch of moonshine ready so no one else noticed her slipping through the gate. 

He motioned to Miller to keep an eye out, as expected he was one of the few who weren't completely pissed, and followed her out. 

It was pitch black in the forest and Bellamy's eyes took a moment to adjust. He saw Octavia dart behind the tree line heading in the same direction as before. 

It wasn't hard to follow Octavia. She may have been small but she made the same amount of noise as an angry elephant.

They were the big grey ones right?

Bellamy, on the other hand, moved through the forest with ease, never making any more noise than the rustle of a bush which could easily have been the wind.

He continued following Octavia for about 10 minutes until she stopped abruptly by a large tree. It was completely dark now so Bellamy had to strain his eyes to see. 

Octavia looked around briefly before disappearing from view completely. Bellamy started forward, running to where she was before and found a hole dug into the ground. A warm light came from below that flickered against the entrance. 

Another odd thing was the flowers.

They were identical, perfectly picked and sitting next to the cave entrance. 

Bellamy pulled his knife from its sheath, wincing at the sound it made. He slowly lowered himself into the hole and crept forward. 

About 2 metres in the tunnel expanded to the size of a large room, about four times larger than his tent. A fire was in one corner causing the dancing light across the walls which were covered in intricate drawing of the forests, rivers and many other beautiful things.

Bellamy only ghosted over these details as his eyes were locked on the image in front of him.

His BABY sister was currently entwined in the arms of a man who was lying on top of her by the fire. Their lips were locked together, both eagerly running their hands over each other's body. 

After Bellamy got over his initial shock, the anger descended. Red clouded over his vision and it was all he could do not to strangle the boy currently feeling up Octavia right in front of him.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Bellamy shouted his fists clenching.

Octavia and the boy sprung apart as though they'd been given an electric shock. They scrambled to their feet and the boy grabbed the knife lying at their feet.

That was when Bellamy realised.

It wasn't some dweeb from the camp.

It was a fucking grounder.

It was the grounder he had tortured. 

"Bellamy why the fuck are you here?" Octavia asked anger colouring her voice.

"I could ask you the same thing," he spat, "now move so I can slit this animals throat." 

There was a gleam in his eye and Octavia had no doubt he meant that. 

"Bellamy stop! He's helping us!" She pleaded looking between them both who were still pointing their knives at each other. 

"No he's not! Why can't you see that O? He's just manipulating you. Us. Just leave so I can deal with him."

"I'm not leaving. End of." Octavia said planting her feet between them, "we need to talk." 

The grounder seemed to agree as he lowered his knife. Briefly Octavia turned around and Bellamy took his chance to attack. He dived forward his knife raise and pointing at the grounder.

For any normal person that would have been the end of the road. But the grounder's reflexes were insanely fast. 

He was not impressed by them.

Not at all.

The Grounder flicked his blade up and used Bellamy's momentum to force his knife from his hand. Bellamy, in retaliation, punched the arm holding his knife forcing him to drop it.

Bellamy then proceeded to punch every part of him within reach of his long arms. He aimed a punch to his head and the grounder ducked so he brought his knee up and caught his jaw. 

But the grounder was putting up a fight as well. He wasn't fighting as furiously as Bellamy, but rather in a calm and calculated way. Bellamy would swing forward wildly putting all momentum behind his fist and he would duck around and catch him in the side. 

The whole while Octavia was screaming in the background for them to stop, reaching for anything to try and drag them away.

They both ignored her.

That was until Bellamy felt the cold press if metal against his throat and froze. He looked over and realised the grounder was in a similar predicament. 

"Now, you're going to get up nice and slow and if EITHER of you so much as look at each other funny I will slit both your throats," Octavia hissed, her voice deadly quiet.

They both scowled back at her but complied. She meant what she said.

"Now, Bellamy you're going to shut up and listen," Bellamy growled but Octavia pressed the blade into his throat so a bead of blood trickled down his neck, "NOW."

He went silent but continued glaring daggers at Octavia.

"Ok, well done. Now Lincoln you're going to explain to Bellamy what you told me earlier."

So he's called Lincoln.

That's not a stupid name.

Lincoln looked as pissed as Bellamy felt and was also glaring at Octavia, his mouth a thin line.

"I thought you couldn't speak?" Bellamy asked coldly.

"I can speak, I just chose not too," Lincoln replied. He had a deep voice and a slight accent which made it obvious English wasn't his first language. 

"Well now you're going to, so get talking," Octavia commanded and he sighed before giving in.

"You're people have created a great amount of political unrest among the tribes," Bellamy began to argue but Octavia hissed so he remained silent. Lincoln eyed him warily but continued, "you're rockets wiped out a very large and important tribe in the east. From what I hear, they evacuated the camp just in time but the leader was killed."

"Wait! We never sent any rockets anywhere! If they were killed then it's not our fault," Bellamy began, his anger rising once again.

"That's what I said Bell, but I think it must have been the flares," Octavia explained, "they must have landed on this tribe." 

She sounded sad and remorseful and Bellamy couldn't blame her.

The list of people he had killed was just getting longer and longer. Now it wasn't only the people from the culling he had killed but a whole village had been destroyed just because he had been selfish. 

He suddenly forgot how to breath as he imagined all the children burning...all because if him. 

"D-did any children die?" Bellamy asked, and winced when he heard how pathetic and weak he sounded.

Lincoln watched him with furrowed brows, obviously surprised by his sudden show of weakness.

Because he's so perfect.

"No. Luckily they were evacuated. The only people who died were the warriors and obviously their leader or 'king' as that tribe liked to call him."

Bellamy shoulders visibly relaxed and he let himself breath once more.

"The problem now is the new leader. The obvious choice is the king's only child who is respected and loved among their people. I believe they have already taken charge and that is good. They think before they act and an all out war will not be a problem."

"Then why are you telling us this?" Bellamy asked, suspicion clear on his face.

"The problem is not the actual tribe, it is Anya."

"Who's Anya?"

"She's the leader of my tribe. And, technically, the leader of all grounders due to my tribes high standings. She will try with all her might to start a war. I'm worried the new leader is in danger. Anya won't agree with her, I know that and she plays a dangerous game. Whatever happens we must protect the new leader or you face a war you cannot win."

"And since when did you care about us? Not a week ago you were prepared to let Finn DIE! I don't believe you can change your opinion of someone so quickly," Bellamy shouted at Lincoln. 

"I'm not doing it for you or your camp," Lincoln whispered. 

And suddenly Bellamy understood. He looked to Octavia, still standing above them with the knives to their throats. She wasn't looking at Bellamy but rather at Lincoln. And there was a warmth in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. 

"You're willing to go against your entire tribe, you're family and side with an unknown camp who tortured you for someone you've known for a week?" Bellamy said incredulously. 

"Yes," Lincoln said and he returned Octavia's gaze with one with similar adoration. 

It made Bellamy sick.

How could Octavia love someone the way Bellamy loved her after only a week? He had done nothing but protect her. 

Bellamy coughed loudly to bring their attention back to him.

"I'm not saying I believe you," Octavia snorted but Bellamy continued, "but how are you going to keep the new leader safe?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow for their camp. I'm going to help them clear up as an act of kindness but I'll keep an eye out for any possible danger."

Bellamy nodded. It seemed straightforward and it involved no effort on his part. 

"Thank you," Bellamy said but his voice cracked from the effort of pushing down his pride, "O lets go back to camp now, Miller can't get everyone to bed."

"No way, I'm staying here," Octavia declared.

Bellamy growled and Lincoln seemed to see they might be pushing their luck. 

"I know this is my last night but I think you should go back," Lincoln said smoothly glancing at Bellamy. He reached out and grabbed her waist pulling her into him. 

Octavia looked up at him, her big, blue eyes filling with tears, "will you at least walk back with us?" She mumbled into his chest.

"Sure," Lincoln told her smiling and kissing the top of her head.

Bellamy groaned and started out of the cave away from the sickeningly sweet scene behind him before he lost control again.

He hauled himself out if the cave and stood leaning against the tree. He had been quite good he thought. If Lincoln had tried one more thing with O he wasn't sure he could have held himself back. But he hadn't attacked him.

And that's what counts right? 

He loved his little sister. Maybe too much. But she was too young to be doing that sort of thing. And if she thought he would let that grounder near her after tonight, she was in for a shock.

After a minute or two Lincoln's head appeared out the hole and he pulled himself up. He turned around and effortlessly pulled Octavia out after him. 

Bellamy was already walking away into the dark and he could hear them muttering to each other behind him. 

He glanced back once to check they were still there and nearly punched the tree next to him when he saw their entwined hands and the way O was leaning against Lincoln.

The camp was just coming into sight when Bellamy heard a twig snapping to their left. He stopped in his tracks and held up a hand to stop Lincoln and Octavia. 

They look at him questioningly but he just put a finger to his lips and shook his head. They were silent for a few moments and Bellamy thought he must have imagined it when he heard another rustle- this one much closer. 

He reached for his knife but his hand grasped thin air.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The knife was either with O or back at the cave.

He looked back at O pleadingly but she looked terrified and shook her head in apology. Lincoln looked equally worried, he knelt down and carefully picked a thick branch from the floor.

Bellamy slowly backed towards them grabbing his own weapon and holding it out in front of them. 

Octavia bent and picked up a large rock. She was trying to be silent like Bellamy and Lincoln but the rock slipped and clattered to the ground. 

She gasped and jumped back grabbing a smaller one from beside her.

The forest was silent once more, the moonlight filtered through the leaves bathing everything in a silvery light. It was so quiet.

Too quiet.

All at once the world exploded around them. Bushes seemingly came to life, dark armed humans ran from all directions and one even jumped from a tree. 

Bellamy swore colourfully under his breath and swung at the attackers. The three of them went back to back, facing outwards and tried to place hits on whoever they could reach.

A few went down after some well placed blows from Bellamy and he could hear other loud thumps coming from Lincoln and Octavia but they just kept coming. 

Bellamy felt a sting in the right thigh and realised one had sliced through his pants into his leg. Another kicked his torso and he momentarily couldn't breath but he kept going. 

He knocked another out with a blow to the head before he heard a loud yelp of pain from behind him. He swung around so quickly he stumbled and his ankle twinged painfully. 

Octavia was on the ground clutching her thigh.

An arrow sticking out.

"Octavia!" Bellamy shouted limping forward.

The attackers took advantage of his distraction and hit a mallet across his kneecap. He hissed in pain he fell forward into the dirt. 

Lincoln was running to Octavia but the attackers were too. 

"GO!" He shouted to Lincoln who hoisted her into his arms. She was barely conscious but Lincoln turned to him, his mouth a grim line and nodded before running off into the bush. 

Some of the attackers turned to give chase but the others continued to close in.

There was a whistling by Bellamy's ear and his last though was of Octavia as everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Sorry about this chapter. I know it's kind of a filling in the story one and I apologise about the actual writing. Hopefully it will get better when I get into the actual story! I haven't completely decided on plot and characters yet so if you have any constructive criticism and/or ideas/requests I'd love to hear them!


	3. A Failed Success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry about how long it took me to publish this chapter! I had it pretty much written weeks ago then completely forgot because of my never ending block of exams, rowing training, swimming etc. Hopefully the next one will be published quicker. As always feedback is welcome and I hope you enjoy!

It was mid morning when Clarke heard the shout from the gate. She had been outside picking medicinal herbs for their new med hut. It was slow going and the room was not nearly big enough but it was at least something to hold onto.

She stopped what she was doing and started back towards the main gate, herbs in hand. A small crowd had gathered all standing and shouting angrily at three figures sitting on horseback trying to get through. 

They were all gesticulating wildly and Clarke broke into a light jog to try and reach them before the fighting started.

Tensions were running high in their small community. Although no one had rebutted Clarke's claim to leadership there was an unease that seemed to follow her around camp; whispers cut short when she walked past and a few openly hateful glares in her direction. 

As soon as Clarke was close enough she recognised the person a top the chestnut in the middle. Small and gaunt with long, matted brown hair and black paint thickly surrounding her eyes...Anya.

Well isn't that just great.

Anya's brows were furrowed in anger but seemed to smooth out as she saw Clarke approaching. She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"Ah Clarke, I was just trying to find you but your people would not let me in," Anya said in her deep, accented voice, "I hope you will show a bit more hospitality." 

"I'm sorry Princess Anya. These are tough times you must understand their concern for our security," Clarke replied steadily walking up to stand in front of her convoy.

Anya narrowed her eyes but nodded sharply and gracefully dismounted. Her guards made to follow her but Clarke interrupted them.

"If you don't mind I think we would all feel safer if you stayed outside. We have no weapons and you may make them nervous."

"But they mean no harm and surely you do not either. If that is true I'm sure no one will mind," Anya replied smoothly.

"If we do not mean each other harm why do you feel the need for guards?" 

Anya had no answer for that so stalked through the crowd into the camp. They parted in front of her all throwing suspicious looks at the outsiders. 

The group that had denied Anya entrance were a sorry bunch to look at. All their warriors had been killed in the rockets leaving them no choice but to make use of those previously thought unfit for service. These included youngsters barely out of their childhood and weak or ill adults who were normally declared too fragile to be trusted with a spear.

Not that they actually had any of those. 

It wasn't quite the show of strength and resilience Clarke would have liked to welcome Anya but it was the best they had.

Clarke walked quickly after her and smiled apologetically to the 'guards' who returned to their duty of protecting the gate.

She couldn't help thinking how useless they would be if they were attacked from the sky again. 

By the time Clarke had pushed her way through the crowd gathered to watch the goings on Anya had positioned herself in the centre of the make shift village. 

She had her hands on her hips and her long nose was scrunched up in distaste. She made no comment as Clarke ignored her and walked towards the med hut to deposit the herbs but Anya followed silently.

It was very dark inside and took a great deal of clattering and swearing before Clarke found the matches and lit a candle on the bench. Somehow these had survived the fire.

That made one thing.

Clarke made a show of carefully organising the herbs into categories and hanging them up on their designated hooks by the slats in the wall. She moved slowly hoping Anya would leave and wait outside but instead she stood and watched Clarke from the doorway.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Clarke blurted out, suddenly turning around after she could put it off no longer. 

Anya was scowling at the floor deep in thought but quickly replaced it with a sympathetic smile when she realised she once again had Clarke's attention. 

Wow. Subtle.

"I am simply here to check up on you and offer my support," Anya supplied.

"We're doing well thank you. I trust you got the messenger my father sent?" 

Her father, always the optimist, had sent a messenger to the head tribe as soon as the flares were spotted. Clarke didn't trust Anya but she should know what happened in her own kingdom.

"I did, however I am unsure on details," Anya paused and asked delicately, "do you know who the perpetrator is?" 

Clarke could see no way of convincing Anya to stay out of it so she leant against the table and began, "the scouts reported it was sent from the Skypeople's camp," Anya gasped in what seemed practiced horror but Clarke held up a finger to silence her, "but whatever happens you are not getting involved. This is between us and them and we don't even have confirmation of it yet." 

"But this is an outrage!" Anya burst out, "I'll call my warriors, we attack tonight!" 

She whirled around, dramatically pushing through the entrance and began storming back to the gate. 

Clarke sighed and ran after her. The recent rain had made it muddy underfoot and she slipped around grabbing at Anya’s arm- maybe a bit too hard. 

Anya swung around and looked bewilderedly between Clarke's hand still grasping her upper arm and her face. 

"Are you going to let me go?" Anya asked, her voice turning deadly quiet.

"Only if you promise to leave this matter to us."

"How can I leave this matter to you? It is a direct assault on our whole society and, as the leading tribe, we must protect the lesser tribes such as yourselves," she let the subtle insult hang in the air between them as a cruel smile crept onto Anya's face. 

Clarke finally let go and drew herself up to her full height.

Which wasn't exactly very tall.

Shut up. She's short. 

"We may be inferior in size and strength to your tribe Anya," she hissed between her teeth trying to burn Anya with her glare, (and not succeeding, that woman's stone) "but there are other ways of dealing with such matters. We will stop this threat without war and I would greatly appreciate it if you would stay out of it." 

Clarke stood watching to see the other woman's reaction to her speech. She seemed unaffected except her scowl deepened.

"Fine. I will leave for now but I will come back soon. You need our help whether you like it or not," Anya finished turning once more and storming from the village.

Clarke made no move to stop her and watched as she mounted her horse and rode away with her guards. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding as they finally disappeared into the trees half expecting them to turn around and shoot at her.

Wouldn't be the first time.

The whole tribe was silent as the thunder of hooves died away but continued on as normal when they realised there was nothing more to come, only glancing a few unreadable looks in Clarke's direction.

She was in deep, deep shit.

Clarke only enjoyed a few moments of reprieve to try and get her head around Anya's threat/offer of help before Abby ran up to her.

"Anya's here?" She asked breathlessly craning her neck and searching the crowds, "they said you were arguing?"

"She's gone now," Abby looked at Clarke in surprise, "oh she's coming back. She’s just gone for the time being." 

Abby examined her daughter’s expression before forcing her into a tight hug, "I'm so sorry honey. I was tending the hunting party; you shouldn't have had to deal with her alone." Abby patted her back but let go when Clarke began to protest. 

Clarke straightened out her clothes, looking around to check no one was watching and tried her best to look calm and in control despite just being tackled by a middle aged woman, "thank you, Abby but I can handle it," her tone was polite but lacked any of her usual affection.

Abby gave her a small smile, "just remember, you're not just their leader now, you're their protector- mother if you like. You need to nurture then and to do that you need to show emotion sometimes, it's only human. Don't block everyone out just to seem in control."

Clarke nodded gruffly- her mum could read her like a book- but gave her a genuine smile and placed a reassuring hand on her arm, "Don't worry, I have it under control. Have you heard from the scouting party?"

She could feel Abby's arm tense under her hand and she withdrew quickly, "what is it? What's happened?!" Clarke questioned scrutinising her mother’s reactions.

"They sent a messenger ahead and...well..." Abby looked pained and kept glancing around nervously, "they had an opportune moment to...carry out the plan so they took it." 

"THEY WHAT??" Clarke screamed. Abby visibly recoiled and the workers turned to stare at the scene unfolding. 

"Clarke, calm down, people are staring," Abby hissed sending the crowds reassuring smiles, "let's go inside."

Clarke stopped looking around for something to punch and let Abby take her arm and guide her to the empty main hall.

"I gave simple orders," Clarke said, her voice deadly quiet, "and they have to go and FUCKING CARRY IT OUT WHEN I TOLD THEM IT WAS A SCOUTING MISSION," She begins shouting again, getting angrier and angrier as she continues to rant. 

Abby shushes her once more. And Clarke tries to refrain herself again. She softens her scowl but the fury is still present in her eyes, clenched fists and her mouth which is pressed into a thin line. 

"They're not trained for this Clarke!" Abby reasoned, "I'm sure they're nervous and didn't mean it to get so out of hand." 

"Who was leading the mission?" Clarke asked quietly.

"Umm...well," Abby stuttered and looked around.

"Mom, who was leading the mission," she asked again and maybe it her obvious anger or the use of 'mom' but Abby relented.

"Agnatha, but Clarke don't make a scene," Abby pleaded but Clarke had already walked to the door, "honey it was a spur of the moment decision."

Clarke snorts at that, "spur of the moment my ass." 

She stormed out the hut and towards the gate. Stupid Agnatha. Always taking matters into her own hands if she didn't get her way. And her mum was being stupid as well. Standing up for Agnatha even though she didn't agree with her.

Stupid adults.

There was shouts coming from the distance to signal the return of the scouting- well it was supposed to be- party so she sped up and stormed out to meet them.

They were walking towards her and looked like the most pathetic group she'd seen in a long time. 

Agnatha led the group, her old body causing her to limp and shuffle slowly towards her slowing the party down. To be quite honest it wouldn't have gone any faster if she hadn't been there.

The fact that only around half of them were conscious might make a difference. They were being supported by their friends, clothes ripped and faces dirty with a few even being held on makeshift stretchers. Clarke knew they weren't warriors, that they needed extra support for even a simple mission.

But this was pathetic.

She stormed up to Agnatha as they approached.

"I am going to kill you," Clarke hissed at the older woman.

Agnatha barely registered her presence. Her eyes were unfocused and she swayed were she stood. 

"Clarke," she whispered faintly before pitching forward into her arms. 

Clarke instinctively caught the older woman and carefully lowered her to the ground. She checked her pulse; still going if a bit slowly. 

"Ok, bring all the injured to the hospital wing and I want someone to bring me a report in the main hall in 5 minutes," Clarke shouted to the waiting group. 

They all shifted around nervously.

Good, Clarke thought, they better feel guilty.

She hauled the older woman to her feet and began half carrying her towards the hospital wing. 

Abby ran towards them as soon as they were through the walls, concern written all over her face. Clarke stopped in front of her and readjusted her grip around Agnatha's waist.

"What happened-" she began but Clarke cut her off with a wave of her hand. 

"Half the troops unconscious and the rest can barely stand," Clarke said between gritted teeth, Agnatha was heavy, "go and help who you can, I'll need you and anyone spare in the med hut pronto."

Abby nodded sharply and jogged through the gate. A slow trickle of injured and their helpers began walking towards the hut after Clarke and Agnatha. Other members of the tribe dropped whatever they were doing and ran over to assist. 

"Just perfect, another setback," Clarke muttered to herself. Agnatha groaned weakly reminding Clarke of her original destination. 

The walk across the village was difficult. Clarke had to focus all her energy on not slipping in the mud and the collapsing Agnatha was not helping. 

Eventually she made it and pulled open the door eagerly before laying the older woman on the nearest available bed. She quickly went around the small space opening the tiny windows and lighting candles in an attempt to bring light to the dingy room.

A few moments later the first casualties arrived and Clarke set about making them comfortable and checking any life threatening injuries.

Abby arrived a while later supporting a girl who couldn't be old enough to fight. She gently laid her on the wooden floor and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

The girls sobbing quietened and Clarke caught Abby's eye nodding towards Agnatha's bed. Abby nodded in understanding and stood up, brushed herself down and set to work on the most serious cases. 

Agnatha was lying on her back, breathing shallow but she turned and looked at Clarke as she approached. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly, the guilt consuming her tired eyes, "I didn't expect it to go so badly. There were three of them for Christ's sake. So many injured. All my fault...my fault," she mumbled off covering her face in her hands. 

Clarke rubbed her arm and shushed her until she stopped mumbling to herself and the shaking eased off. As far as Clarke could tell she was just exhausted. 

She was 70 for crying out loud.

A woman 20 years her junior would have struggled with the trek and not to mention the burden of the wounded. 

Clarke turned to go but remembered the real reason behind all that had happened.

"The mission..." Clarke asked tentatively, as if afraid of the answer, "was it...successful?"

Clarke didn't like to say that word. Nothing could be successful if it included countless injuries and she assumed some dead.

"Yes, it was."

Clarke felt a rush of emotions pass through her but didn't know if that was a relief or worry so she pushed the thought from her mind; for the time being anyway and set to work forgetting all about their new guest currently waiting for her in the main hall.


End file.
